Breaking Buffy Summers
by Clown Baby
Summary: What becomes of a slayer when she has nothing left to fight for? Angelus puts the question to the test. circa Season 2, post "Innocence," very dark, you probably won't like it
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This gory little story takes place after the events depicted in "Innocence."**

Angelus and Spike sat in the dining hall of the mansion, setting up a game of poker. Nearby, a chorus of pathetic mewls issued from a sack full of kittens. As Spike cracked the seal on a fresh deck of cards, Angelus said, "Spike, my boy, I don't want to see you bottom dealing, or false shuffling, or any of that other bullshit. If I catch you cheating me, I promise you'll never get up out of that chair."

Spike grinned jauntily, but inside he was sick with the fear of eternity as Rollerboy. "Don't need tricks to take your money, Peaches."

"Deal the cards, cripple," Angelus snarled.

Hours passed, and true to his word, Spike won a great deal of his grandsire's fluffy currency. Angelus seemed distracted, his expression distant, as if his thoughts lingered miles away. _About four and a half miles, I'd wager,_ thought Spike, _the distance from here to Buffy's quaint little abode on Revello Drive._

Eventually, Angelus spoke. "The slayer and her merry little band, they certainly handed us our hats, didn't they?"

"That they did. And our arses."

Angelus stewed a bit longer. "What shall we do about that, Spike?"

"Oh, you know, murder, mayhem. The usual."

While the prospect of bloody adventures certainly called to his demon, Angelus was growing tired of "the usual." Besides, it just wasn't the same without Darla. Though Angelus would never say so, he missed his maker terribly.

"Our family," he mused, "is not what it once was. There are only three of us now." Glancing at Spike's chair, he amended, "Well, two and a half."

"Fuck you," Spike growled.

"As if you even could," Angelus sneered.

They were silent after that. Within a few hands, Angelus had run out of kittens. Spike puffed up his chest. "I guess there's a sucker turned every minute, eh Gramps?"

"You're a funny guy, Spike. Not as funny as a cripple on fire, but then, what is?"

Spike blanched.

Angelus returned to his musings. "You know what I want most in this world, Spike? I want to break Buffy Summers. I want to crush her spirit. I want to destroy her will. I want her to look upon me and despair."

"That's a rosy picture you paint, Angelus, but it'll never happen. She's a born fighter, that one, and she'll go down fighting, no matter what. It's written into her mystical slayer DNA."

"I think you're wrong. I think she'll fight only as long as there's something in her life worth fighting for."

"Nope. It's a compulsion. Can't be turned off, ever."

"Shall we bet on it?"

"With what? I already got all your kittens, you bleedin' ponce!"

"Double or nothing says I can break the slayer without laying a finger on her."

"Ha! This I gotta see! You're on, gramps. So, what's the plan?"

Angelus smiled wickedly. "We'll start with a visit to The Bronze…"

***

It was Friday night and The Bronze was hopping. Angelus, Spike, and four of their meatiest minions pushed through the line outside, sending more than one teen sprawling on the pavement. When they reached the doorman, he stood up, crossing his arms. The man was clearly intimidated, but he still managed an impressive degree of false bravado. "Don't need no trouble makers here," he growled. "Fuck off."

Angelus adopted his most obsequious tone. "But sir, my friends and I aren't looking for trouble. We merely seek a good time in your fine establishment."

"I said fuck off!"

"I see. Well, then…Spike? What should I do about Killjoy the Doorboy here?"

Spike grinned. "Remember Bangkok rules?"

Angelus chuckled. "Remember them? Hell, I invented them." He pulled a large gold coin from his pocket and showed it to Killjoy. "Heads or tails," he said and tossed it up in the air. As the bouncer followed the spinning arc of the coin, Angelus slugged him hard enough to cave in half his face. The human collapsed to the ground, dead. The partygoers in line quickly and noisily fled the area.

"That bit never goes stale," Spike chortled, rolling through the entrance with a portable radio on his lap.

Angelus gave a whistle and two more brutes materialized from the alley carrying large metal drums. "You, dance floor. You, bar," he directed them. He turned to the other four vampires. "Your job will be to barricade the exits. Allow no one to escape."

The minions nodded and moved into place. Satisfied with his preparations, Angelus stepped into The Bronze.

***

Inside, the lights were strobing and the DJ was spinning some kind of new age crap. Both stimuli offended the heightened senses of Angelus. He decided the sooner this was done, the better. He grabbed the radio from Spike and wove through the press of bodies, making his way to the stage. After climbing up onto the raised platform, he grabbed the mic. "Ladies and gentlemen." Tap tap tap. "Ladies and gentlemen!" TAP TAP TAP.

Nothing. Nada. He shrugged and carried the microphone over to amp. The resulting squeal cut through the din of the club, and suddenly every eye was fixed on him.

"Much better," he purred. "Ladies and gentleman, we interrupt your regularly scheduled techno shitfest for this very important announcement."

Holding the radio at chest level, he pressed play. The speakers blared "Burnin' For You" by the Blue Oyster Cult.

_Burn out the day_

_Burn out the night_

_I can't see no reason to put up a fight_

_I'm living for giving the devil his due_

_And I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you_

_I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you_

Angelus turned off the radio. "That is all. Thank you for your cooperation." He left the stage and the stunned crowd parted for him. At the door he turned and signaled. His minions nodded and punched holes in the drums, allowing the contents to spill forth over the floor of The Bronze. Once the patrons began to realize what they were standing in, a mass panic gripped the club, causing a mad rush for the exit. The drum bearers ran interference for Spike and Angelus, beating the crowd back, allowing the two elders to savor the moment.

"Spike, it's time."

Spike nodded and retrieved a zippo from his pocket. With a flick of his finger, it was lit. With a flick of his wrist, it was flying into the giant pool of gasoline. Grandsire and grandchilde were out the door before the flame touched down.

There was a whoosh, followed by the most horrible screaming, followed by nothing but the roar of the fire. Neither vampire looked back.

"Think that will get their attention, Spike, my boy?"

"And then some."

"That's what I'm counting on."


	2. Chapter 2

The following morning, Buffy Summers woke to urgent knocking on her bedroom door. She propped herself up on her elbows just as her mother, Joyce, stepped into the room. When the cheery "good morning!" didn't come, Buffy blinked the sleepies away and studied her mom carefully.

The older woman's expression was sad, and her eyes were red and swollen. Had she been _crying_?

"Mom, what's wrong?"

"Sweetie…come downstairs with me. There's something you need to see."

"Uh…okay, Mom." Buffy was very worried now.

When they reached the family room, Joyce slipped an arm around her daughter and sat them down on the couch. Then she picked up the TV remote and pressed the "mute" button.

"---police are making no official statement at this time," droned the smartly-dressed female reporter from Channel 9, "but a source within the department, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, indicated that arson may be involved."

The screen flicked to a wide shot of The Bronze, which was now little more than a smoldering shell of itself, before returning to the woman.

"Once again, here is what we know: at some point last evening, a fire broke out at the Sunnydale nightclub The Bronze. Firefighters were called to the scene, but despite their best efforts, they could neither control nor extinguish the blaze. There are no reports of revelers escaping the fire. Police have not yet provided a casualty estimate, but judging by the sheer number of people lined up behind the barricades, seeking any sign, any glimpse of their loved ones—"

The camera panned to a large crowd of weeping, shouting people pressed against the temporary metal barrier and held there for a moment before swinging back to the reporter.

"—the death toll will most likely be substantial." She did her best to appear stricken for moment before resuming her professional demeanor. "This is Tina Wallace reporting for Channel 9 News."

The feed cut to the newsroom, where a man with very large hair said, "Thank you, Tina. A cruise line for pets? Don't laugh, it could happen. Details after the break!"

Joyce turned off the TV.

"Oh. My. God," Buffy breathed, staring at nothing. "The Bronze…all those people…"

Joyce rubbed her daughter's back as she dealt with the shock. After a while, Buffy turned and said, "Mom, I hang out there. People I know hang out there."

Buffy sniffled and Joyce pulled her into a comforting embrace. "I know, honey. I'm so sorry."

The slayer sagged against her mother for a minute or two, letting the tears flow. Then a terrible thought flitted through her mind and she lunged for the phone, hastily punching up Willow's number. "Please be there…"

After a couple rings, the other end picked up, and Willow croaked, "Hello?"

"Oh, Wil! You're there! Oh thank God!"

"Um, Buffy? Where else would I be at, uhh…7:30 in the morning? On a Saturday?"

"Just throw on some clothes and come over. I gotta call Xander."

Buffy hung up before the redhead could get another word in. When she called Xander's house, the phone rang and rang. "Pick up, pick up, pick up…"

He picked up. "Ugh?"

"Xander?"

"Ungle."

"Xander!"

"What?"

"Meeting, my house, ASAP. Pick up Cordy on the way."

"She won't like that."

"Not really caring, Xander."

"Gah…okay." Click.

Buffy set the phone down feeling tremendously better. "They're okay, Mom. I don't think they know yet…"

"So I gather. Looks like we're going to need some serious pancakes."

Joyce patted Buffy's knee and moved off into the kitchen. Buffy sat back to ponder the news. Some small part of her couldn't help wondering if the ex was involved.

***

A few minutes later, Willow burst through the front door. Her eyes locked on Buffy. "What? What?"

Buffy held up a hand. "Can we wait till Xander gets here? I don't wanna go over it twice."

"Uh…okay, Buffy. Hey, something smells _really_ good!"

"Mom's cooking up some pancakes."

"Ooh! Ooh! Pancakes! Happy day!"

Buffy felt queasy. Willow noticed and dialed down the levity. She sat next to her best friend, softly asking, "Not so happy day?"

Silence.

"Something bad happened, didn't it?"

"I'm afraid so, Wils."

A bedraggled Xander Harris shuffled through the door with Cordelia Chase trailing behind. He yawned a jaw-cracking yawn and sat on the coffee table. "Hi Wils, Buff. What's the—hey, do I smell pancakes?"

Cordy rolled her eyes. "Forget breakfast, Xander! Buffy, why are we here at this ungodly hour?"

"They don't call her Cut-To-The-Chase for nothin' folks," quipped Xander.

"Well hardy frickin' har," the cheerleader sneered. "Did you get that from the latest issue of Dork Magazine?"

That put Willow in defend Xander mode. "Hey now—"

"Enough!" Buffy roared, and mouths snapped shut. The slayer counted to five. "Now, the reason I called everyone over…something terrible has happened. There's no easy way to say this, but…The Bronze burned to the ground last night. With people in it."

There was silence. Buffy imagined she could hear the diurnal crickets.

Xander eventually gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, I get it. This is a practical joke. Um. Buffster, we gotta work on your sense of humor."

"I'm not joking Xander." Buffy turned on the TV and flipped channels till she found one covering the story. "See?"

Xander looked pole-axed, as did Cordelia. Willow crumpled into sobs. Buffy took the slight redhead in her arms, rocking gently.

Joyce popped out of kitchen to announce that breakfast was served, but thought better of it once she absorbed the scene in the living room. Wrapped up in her own grief, she quietly placed the food in the oven to keep it warm. It would be there when they needed it.

***

Back at the mansion, Spike and Angelus watched Drusilla play with Miss Edith and the other dollies. Presently, the insane vampiress was cooing and running an ivory comb through Edith's blond bangs.

Out of boredom, Spike said, "Yano, pet, Edith here resembles the Slayer a touch."

Drusilla hissed like an angry cat. Spike held up his hands in amusement. "Sorry, luv."

"Why are you apologizing to me? It's Miss Edith you've offended."

Angelus chortled. Spike turned to the doll and placed a hand over his silent heart. "Madame, I crave your pardon."

Drusilla seemed to listen for a moment and then let out a giggle. "Miss Edith says good thing for you you're so charming."

Angelus snorted in derision. "Speaking of Slutty the vampire layer, I've decided that for our little experiment, it's best if we work quickly. As Dru can attest, I usually like to spread the torment over weeks, or even months, but this little bitch has a knack for spoiling my plans. So, we won't give her the opportunity."

Spike leaned forward, practically twitching with excitement. "Right-o, Pops. What's the play?"

"Divide and conquer. My daytime eyes and ears tell me the Slayer and her crew are blubbering and licking their wounds at Summers residence. Having sampled Joyce's cooking, I expect they'll stay through dinner and then some. When they do leave the house, we'll be outside waiting. Drusilla, I want you to capture the boy and bring him to the mansion relatively unscathed."

"Oh Daddy! You know what I like. I'll be sweet, I promise."

"Spike, you grab the cheerleader."

"Bloody hell. I'm gonna need a ball gag."

"And I'll fetch the redhead." Angelus glanced at the large grandfather clock. "Four hours till sunset. Gather your teams, supplies, whatever, and meet me back here."

Drusilla pranced out the room singing a Xander-themed lullaby. Spike was halfway to the door when Angelus said, "Oh, Spike, there's one more thing."

As the blond vampire turned, a boot lashed out, catching him in the chest. The wheelchair fell back and Spike tumbled out of it, slamming into a marble pedestal. Before he could get his bearings, Angelus was looming over him, delivering kick after vicious kick to his stomach. Out of desperation, Spike tipped the pedestal, creating a barrier between him and his grandsire. He rolled to his feet unsteadily, then cursed himself as he realized his cover was blown.

"Bollocks…"

Angelus just stood there, clenching his fists and wearing a murderous expression. "Lie to me again, and you'll be walking on sunshine. Now get the fuck out of my sight."

***

After a sumptuous dinner of pot roast and potatoes—"Food is the best therapy," mumbled Xander as he inhaled his fifth crescent roll—the Scoobies retired to the living room for a movie. Although they'd spent the entire day together, crying, talking, playing Candyland, et cetera, et cetera, no one seemed in a hurry to leave.

"I think we're gonna need a comedy," said Buffy, flipping through the Summers collection as everyone settled in.

***

About halfway through the film, the sun slipped under the horizon. A few minutes after that, a group of vampires assembled in the shadows of Revello Drive.

***

The movie ended and everyone climbed out from under their pillows and blankets.

"Well, now that it's dark out," Cordelia announced, "I can sneak home incognito. Thanks for the yummy food, Joyce. Bye, losers."

She grabbed her purse and slipped out the door.

***

"That's your cue, Spike," murmured Angelus.

Spike gave an insolent salute and stalked off after the cheerleader.

***

"I pronounce Cordelia healed," said Joyce.

Xander brayed like a donkey. "Good one, Mrs. Summers. Well, I'm off. Those comic books won't read themselves."

He made his goodbyes and headed out.

***

"Go get him, Dru."

"Rawr." Dru flicked her wrist and sashayed into the night, a couple minions trailing behind her.

***

"Are you gonna be okay, Willow?"

"Yeah, I think so. I'm just glad Oz and his band weren't there last night. Is that wrong? To feel glad at the expense of dead people?"

Buffy shook her head. "No, I don't think it's wrong. I feel the same way."

Willow offered a tentative smile. "Thanks, Buffy."

Buffy pulled her into a long hug, then Willow quietly gathered her things and left.

***

"Red. My favorite color." Angelus kicked away from the tree he was leaning against and sauntered after the girl.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry for my less-than-timely progress. I've been feeling lazy and uninspired. I'll do better, I promise. For those of you who've reviewed, or added me to your alert list, or to your favorite author list: thanks for the warm fuzzies!

**Chapter 3**

Willow was seated at the table in the school library, patiently waiting for Giles and Buffy to arrive so the Scooby Meeting could begin. To her left was Cordelia. To her right, Xander. Unsurprisingly, the cheerleader was nattering on about something or other.

"I don't appreciate being kept waiting blahblahblah shoe sale at the mall blahblahblah why do I even hang out with you losers blahblahblah oh my god a stain blahblahblah eww, Xander smells like feet blahblahblah Willow, I need you to write my history paper blahblahblah…"

Willow couldn't take it anymore. She slammed her fists down on the table. "Shut up, Cordelia!" She began chanting in some foreign tongue and suddenly Cordy's mouth disappeared.

"Mmm mm mm, mmmm!"

"I like you better this way."

"Mmm mmmmmmmmm!"

Xander picked up a book and dropped it on Willow's foot.

"Ow!"

He did it again.

"OW—"

Willow awoke with a start. Someone was kicking her foot repeatedly. She kicked back out of reflex and it stopped. As the fog lifted from her thoughts, Willow realized a few things: she was tied to a chair, she had a rag stuffed in her mouth, and she was flanked by Cordelia and Xander, who were likewise bound and gagged.

_What the h-e-double-hockey-sticks? How did I—we—get here? _Willow racked her brain (_think, Willow, think!_) and finally remembered. She was walking home from Buffy's house. There was a noise. She turned. An arm slipped around her throat. _Can't breathe!_ Then a whispered, "Time to sleep…" followed by darkness.

A tear slipped down her face. She shook it away.

Stealing a glance at Cordy, Willow observed her staring directly ahead and screaming muffled obscenities. Then, turning to Xander, she saw his eyes wide with fear. When she finally caught his gaze, he tilted his head repeatedly, urging her to look forward.

Willow did so, and noticed they were in a large, dimly-lit ballroom. She might've found that remarkable had not the two vampires standing before her monopolized her attention. Spike stood with arms crossed over chest and feet shoulder-width apart. Drusilla had her arm around the bleached blond, a finger tucked coyly between her lush lips. Both were wearing their game faces.

Willow made a small noise in her throat.

"Oh, my sweet William," Drusilla simpered, "this is a great night for our family, and for the Order of Aurelius!"

"We'll see about that, luv. They don't look like much to me."

"They may not be much," said Angelus as he strode into the room, "but they'll be enough." He dragged a chair over before the three humans and straddled it. "Now then, I bet you're wondering why you're here. Two reasons. First, I made a bet with Spike here regarding a certain blond slayer, a bet I intend to win. You three can help with that. When she sees what I've done to her precious Scoobies, it might just fuck her brain into oblivion. That's what I'm shooting for, anyway. Now, if I were a less ambitious man, that might be enough for me. But I'm not, and it isn't. Y'see, lately I've been reminiscing about the old days, when Darla, Dru, Spike and I cut a bloody swath through Europe. Did ol' Rupe ever talk about that? About how we used to drink entire villages? No? Doesn't surprise me. If pride is a sin, then the stuffy old fuckers on the Watcher Council must be the worst sinners in all the world. No, they'll never talk about all the skeletons I left in their closet…"

"Get to the point," Spike growled.

Willow was inclined to agree. She tried to ignore the drool leaking from the corner of mouth.

Angelus stroked his chin in contemplation. "The soul cost me a hundred years. That's a long time, even for us. A lot of missed opportunities. Well, I plan to make up for it right here, right now." He spread his arms and smiled toothily. "Welcome to The Scourge, version 2.0! Better, stronger, faster!"

Spike snorted. "Can't improve on perfection, mate."

"A psycho, a poet, and a whore? Yeah, that's some kind of dream team. And yet, it worked so well for us all those years. That's why I'm gonna stick to the playbook and adopt these three. Psycho, Poet, meet Cheerleader, Buffoon, and Nerd."

Drusilla cooed happily and waggled her fingers at the three humans.

Angelus stood and addressed his childer. "Tonight you may do with your charges as you please. Beat them. Cut them. Bind them. Fuck them. I don't care. Just make sure you bite them before the sun comes up. I need these three thinking bad thoughts when we make the rounds tomorrow night. Understood?"

Spike and Drusilla both nodded their assent, their faces rapturous at the prospect of dark delights. Dru wasted no time untying Xander and hauling him to his feet. She leaned in and crushed her lips against his. Xander shuddered, not entirely out of fear. Willow felt a pang a jealousy. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to turn Drusilla into itty-bitty dust motes.

Angelus must've seen something on her face, because his expression turned sly. He winked at the redhead, and she resisted the urge to vomit.

Drusilla stroked Xander's hair. "Come, darling. Come join Mummy and Edith for tea." The insane vampire led the hapless young man out of the ball room. He went with a minimum of struggle, much to Willow's lament.

Spike watched them go, his expression mirthful. "I don't envy the whelp. He's in for a long night." His demonic eyes swung to Cordelia. She had long since exhausted her supply of naughty words and now sat hunched and trembling. When she realized the attention of the blond vampire was fixed on her, she let out a whimper. This pleased Spike immensely.

He loomed over the brunette. "Now what shall I do about you, pet?" He stroked her cheek with a black-lacquered fingernail and tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her ear. "Y'know," he purred. "I've always wanted to shag my way through the entire Kama Sutra in one night…"

Cordy's eyes were very wide now.

"…but that'd probably kill you, and not in the way we want. Ah well. Guess we'll have to see how far we can get before you pass out."

Spike untied her and dragged her toward the door. Cordelia did not go quietly.

Low chuckling filled the room. The sound made Willow want to run as far as she could, as fast as could. Since that wasn't an option, she braced herself and met the golden gaze of Angelus.

"Tell me, Red. Have you ever heard of Saint Andrew's Cross?"

Willow gulped and shook her head.

Angelus knelt by her chair, whispering, "It doesn't burn, but it does…sting. I have one in my chambers. Let me show you."

_Oh goddess oh goddess oh goddess…_

***

Buffy slept in the next morning and awoke feeling refreshed. After brushing her teeth, she bounced down the stairs to find her mom reading the Sunday paper.

"Anything interesting?"

Joyce looked up. "Well, as you can imagine, The Bronze is the big story."

Buffy's mood went south. "Oh, right…"

Joyce noticed the change. With a determined expression, she folded the paper and pushed it away. "What do you say we get out of here? Do something fun?"

That coaxed a tiny smile from the younger woman. "What do you have in mind?"

"Sun and sand and fruity drinks. Let's hit the beach!"

"Mom, that's the best idea I've heard in days! I'm gonna call Xander and Willow."

Joyce put a hand on Buffy's arm. "I was hoping today could be our quality mother-daughter time, if that's all right with you?"

"Oh. Okay. Gotcha. Sure, I'd like that!"

Joyce smiled and pulled her daughter into a hug.

***

That evening…

Rupert Giles was sipping single malt and thumbing through and old grimoire when there came a frantic knocking at his door. Bitter experience had taught him not to dally, so he slammed the scotch and the tome down on the coffee table, sloshing one onto the other, and hurried to the peephole.

It was Willow. Minus her shirt. Giles undid the bolt and threw the door open. The diminutive redhead stood there with her pale arms crossed over her milky breasts, swaying and shivering like her namesake.

"Willow. Oh dear. Come in, come in!"

"Th-thanks, G-G-Giles."

Giles guided her to the couch, draping a blanket over her bare shoulders. _Very shapely_, he thought. She stared at him with wide green eyes. "Willow, what on Earth hap—"

The watcher realized his eyes were drifting southerly to the bountiful cleavage on display. He shook himself. "Um. Hold that thought while I fetch you a sweater."

Giles scurried off down the hall, wondering at his behaviour. And wondering when exactly the sapling had flowered. Was he that oblivious to a beautiful woman? Suddenly, Rupert felt old. With a sigh, he slipped into the bedroom and began pawing through the clothes in his dresser.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Willow shrugged out from under the musty blanket and rose to her feet, stretching like a cat. She indulged for moment in the delicious sensation of cool air on naked flesh, then sighed happily and slinked to the door. Flinging it open, she beckoned the five vampires milling about the courtyard. Her new family.

"Cordelia, Xander, Drusilla, Spike…Sire…please come in." She stepped aside and waved them through the entrance with a flourish. On her way in, Cordelia smirked and trailed a finger over the tops of Willow's breasts. The partially-nude redhead moaned appreciatively. The others leered as Angelus paused to kiss her deeply.

"Well done, my darling," he rumbled, sending shivers down Willow's spine. Composing herself, she closed the door.

There was a noise from hall. Rupert Giles. The reason for this little excursion. "Willow, I've located a garment you may find OH MY LORD!" The watcher was frozen in shock near the kitchen, his mind desperately trying to process the tableau in front of him.

There in the corner was William the Bloody with Cordelia hanging off of him, her slender hand tracing patterns on his chest. There on the couch was Xander with Drusilla sitting daintily on his lap, her fingers sliding playfully through his dark hair. There in the middle of the room was Angelus with sweet, innocent Willow displayed wantonly before him, his large hands cupping her mounds, thumbs and forefingers tweaking her rosy little buds.

Giles then noticed her rapturous expression and decided perhaps he ought to amend the 'sweet and innocent' part. A horrible thought occurred to him. "Oh no," he muttered softly, "oh please no, not that."

Xander smirked. "'That?' You mean this?" He called forth his demon aspect, pinning the watcher under his bright yellow gaze. The others followed suit, donning their game faces.

The watcher's heart broke when saw what the Scoobies had become. He let out a strangled sob and leaned heavily against the kitchen counter. He knew he should be scampering for a stake, or a cross, or a vial of holy water, but grief paralyzed him.

Willow glanced at her sire hopefully. "Play now?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Thanks for reading my stories. I really do appreciate it. If you have any requests, I'll definitely consider them. 

**Chapter 4**

The watcher lay groaning on the floor, his body bruised and broken. Blood trickled from a dozen wounds, most of them inflicted by sharp teeth. Willow inhaled deeply. The combination of his fear, his pain, and his sweet vitae made for an intoxicating bouquet. A lusty growl escaped her lips unbidden. Xander, who was standing behind her with his hands resting on her hips, chuckled and pulled her tightly against him, grinding his cock into the valley of her ass.

"Not that I'm complaining, Wil," he whispered, flicking her earlobe with the tip of his tongue, "but what's with the topless act?"

Willow smirked lazily. "Well…"

***

Earlier that evening…

Willow's dead body lay sprawled face down on the bed, naked save for a bit of sheet Angelus had so artfully draped over her luscious derriere. The man himself was sitting nearby, sketching her in charcoal, occasionally using the ball of his thumb to smudge the drawing here or there. When it came time to detail the myriad of welts and gashes criss-crossing her back, Angelus had to pause a moment to admire his handiwork.

She had taken everything he'd given her up on the cross, and taken it well. This both surprised and impressed the vampire. He hadn't expected such wonderful endurance from that petite frame. Hell, there had been slayers who'd broken long before Willow. And when after long hours of torture he'd finally stripped her down to her most primal self, and glimpsed the kernel of her being…well, Angelus had had no doubt his Childe would rise to become one of most vicious and lethal vampires ever set upon the Earth.

Placing the sketch on the arm of chair, he moved to sit on the mattress, tracing his finger along the ragged edges of her wounds. After a few minutes of teasing the abused flesh, he heard a very faint purring that quickly grew in volume. He smiled and withdrew his hand.

Willow groaned and rolled onto her side, resting her head in her palm. She cocked a brow at him and Angelus was momentarily lost in the emerald depths of her eyes.

"Sire," she purred

"Welcome back, Childe," he rumbled.

"Good to be back."

"Hungry?"

"Famished."

"I had couple of my rent-a-thugs grab some take out." He stood and offered his hand, which she demurely accepted. As Willow slid off the bed, Angelus was treated to the sight of her even more compelling frontside. "Ah, Red, now you're making me hungry," he whispered.

She giggled and arched her back until Angelus was caught in the headlights.

He collected himself with some effort. "But, there will be an eternity for that. Now you must feed."

He led her to the chamber doors. "I think you'll enjoy the menu," he remarked, throwing them open with a bit of showmanship. A tastefully done parlor was revealed with two tasty humans sitting smack in the middle of it. They were Ira and Sheila Rosenberg, and they were trussed up like Thanksgiving turkey.

Willow cooed and clapped her hands with delight. "Oh, Angelus, how'd you know what I wanted?"

"What kind of Sire would I be if I didn't know these things?"

She sighed happily and pulled him into a long, fierce kiss before returning her attention to her dinner. At this point, Ira was red-faced and screaming into his gag whereas Sheila looked on the verge of mental collapse. _Eeny meeny miney moe_…Willow grinned and slinked toward her father like a pantheress, appraising his corpulent form. While Ira was no great physical specimen, he probably had a lot of hot, angry blood pumping through those swollen arteries. _I bet he's like the human quivalent of junk food_, she thought. Willow licked her lips and resisted the urge to vamp out then and there.

"Hello, daddy dearest," she chirped and ripped the cloth from his mouth. Predictably, Ira Rosenberg proceeded to belittle and berate his wayward daughter. Unfortunately, his harsh words lost what slight impact they had due to his refusal to even glance in her direction. Willow found his argument with the wall—or was it the ceiling?—comical at first, but she quickly grew tired of her father's irksome behaviour. Abruptly she placed a finger to his lips, stunning him into silence. "Bored now. Besides, you're doing it wrong. There should be less talking—"

She donned her game face.

"—and more screaming."

As Willow leaned in and savagely tore at Ira's throat with her fangs, she got her wish and then some. Angelus watched with pride, knowing similar scenes were playing out in two other rooms at this very moment. Once both parents were drained, he beckoned a couple minions to dispose of the leftovers and joined his Childe for a quick shower.

As they toweled each other off, Willow noticed her outfit hanging on the door, clean and neatly pressed. Black tights, brown skirt, fuzzy pink sweater. Her face scrunched up in disgust. Last night, it seemed a perfectly reasonable ensemble. Tonight it made her want to vomit blood. "I am not wearing that frou frou shit," she announced.

Angelus chuckled. "Good. Pink is definitely not your color. How about you wear one of my shirts till you find something more suitable?"

"Okay. No. Wait." She glanced at her bare chest and smiled widely. "I have an idea…"

***

Xander laughed. "That's my Willow. Always thinking."

Meanwhile, Cordelia strutted forward, eyeing the human with disdain. "Well, Rupert, looks like you've got those two all hot and bothered. Hmph. I really don't know what they see in you."

She knelt and swiped her finger through the blood oozing out of his neck, bringing it to her lips. As she sampled him, she wrinkled her nose. "You even taste like a musty old librarian."

In the background, Spike gave one of his trademark purring chuckles, causing the brunette fledgling to shiver happily at memories of the previous evening. Her eyelids fluttered as heat began to spread from her core. "Maybe there are other ways you can be useful," she moaned, sliding her hand under his trousers to fondle his nutsack. When Cordelia got no response from the injured human, she growled and stood up.

"Limp-dicked son of a bitch!" she screamed and ground her heel into his crotch. Giles contributed a few screams of his own to the party.

Angelus stepped forward. "All right children, that's enough. Load him in the DeSoto."

"Party over," Cordelia muttered, kicking the librarian in the head one last time for good measure, putting his lights out. Then she plucked Giles from the floor as if he weighed nothing and carried him out the door. Spike caught up to her in time to pop the trunk of the car, revealing the bound and unconscious forms of Jennifer Calendar and Daniel Osborne. Cordy dumped Giles next to his fellow "whitehats" and wiped her hands on the hem of Jenny's blouse.

Spike closed the trunk and hooked an arm around his Childe. "Torture suits you, pet. If it makes you feel any better, you had Lil' Spike standing at full attention."

Cordy giggled and captured and his lips with her own, kissing him passionately. They reluctantly pulled away from each other as the rest of the family approached.

Angelus said, "Pile in everyone. Spike, to the school library."

***

The former Scoobies were told to wait in the car as Spike, Dru, and Angelus unloaded their human cargo at Sunnydale High. Cordelia passed the time pinching and twisting Willow's nipples while Xander sat back and enjoyed the show. After a few minutes, Spike hopped back in the DeSoto. When glanced in the rearview, he shouted, "Oi, there! That'll be enough of that, Cordy! Don't need Red soaking the seats." Once they settled down a bit, he continued, "Angelus wants me to take you lot shopping for new duds."

Cordy and Willow squealed with excitement. Xander said, "Spike, it's Sunday. It's late. The shops are closed."

"Not a problem, whelp. Got me a skeleton key."

Spike fumbled around under the passenger seat for a moment, then tossed a brick in Xander's lap.

"Let's do this."

***

It was well past dark before Joyce and Buffy made it back to Sunnydale. What had begun as a trip to the beach turned into beach, plus shopping, plus dinner, plus movie. Not that either woman minded a bit. It had been far too long since they'd spoiled themselves to any appreciable degree. Buffy stifled a yawn as they pulled into the driveway, tired from a very full day. Glancing over at her mom, she could tell Joyce was beat as well.

After they toted the shopping bags inside, mother and daughter hugged and retired to their respective bathrooms to prepare for bed. As she removed her make-up, Buffy briefly entertained the thought of patrolling. _No way, Jose,_ she decided. _Hey, a girl's gotta have a me day now and then. Even the Slayer. Giles will probably be annoyed that I didn't dust a single vamp all weekend, but oh well. Oh, I know! I'll go in early tomorrow and pretend I'm super interested in whatever he's saying. That should make him happy._

Nodding to herself, she flicked off the bathroom light and crawled into bed.


End file.
